


To Escape This Old World

by The_Bi_who_lived



Series: This is My Roarin', Roarin' 20s [2]
Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: 1899 Strike, 1920s slang, Alternate Universe - 1920s, Alternate Universe - Mob, Alternate Universe - Police, Angst, Arranged Marriage, Backstory, Because I can, Childhood, Crying, Death in Childbirth, Hannah is a Newsie, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Smoking, Italiano | Italian, Minor Character Death, Minor Violence, Name Changes, Newsboys, Newsies References, No Lesbians Die, No Slash, Original Character Death(s), Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Period Typical Attitudes, Poverty, Probably ooc, References to Gang Activity, References to the Strike of 1899, Running Away, Smoking, Terrible Italian, Unbeta'ed, no beta we die like men, the strike
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-20
Updated: 2019-04-20
Packaged: 2020-01-22 22:55:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18537148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Bi_who_lived/pseuds/The_Bi_who_lived
Summary: Hannah McEwan. An intelligent, fierce, hardworking, girl.  She looked, to the world, like the model of a modern woman, albeit one with a proclivity towards progressive behaviours and ideals. But like any fair lady, she had secrets and a past of her own.~~~Hannah (Cortes) McEwan's Backstory.~~~TRIGGER WARNINGS BEFORE YOU STEP INTO THIS FIC-Repeated References to Gang/Mob Related Activities-References to Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism-References to an Abusive/Alcoholic Character-Minor Character Death-Death in Childbirth-Arranged Marriage-Vague References to the Strike (1899)-Going on the Run





	To Escape This Old World

**Author's Note:**

  * For [yaboiiiigrass](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yaboiiiigrass/gifts).



> TRANSLATIONS AT END
> 
> Title is from the Panic! At The Disco song "King Of The Clouds", because I'm keeping with the "Pray For The Wicked" theme.
> 
> Okay so I kept trying to subtly write in backstory for Hannah but it Wasn't Working so I said to myself, "Fuck it! We'll just write a little oneshot." I said to myself, "I'll keep it short and sweet!"
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> So take this. Yes, that thing that looks like a reference to "Watch What Happens (Reprise)" is indeed such. See if you can catch the Seussical reference too. (Because that was my first ever real musical performance so I love it eternally. I was a Who btw.) I couldn't resist the temptation to make Hannah a Newsie either, sorry not sorry.
> 
>  
> 
> (I swear to god I meant to make this short.)  
> (Have fun w/ the angst Grass)

     Hannah McEwan. An intelligent, fierce, hardworking, woman. She spent her daytimes behind a mahogany desk, fingers clacking away at a typewriter or pen scratching at a notepad as she organised the schedules, meetings, and paperwork of Captain Joseph Pulitzer. She smiled as she greeted front desk clerks and detectives alike, curtsying where appropriate and nodding where not. She looked, to the world, like the model of a modern woman, albeit one with a proclivity towards progressive behaviours and ideals. But like any fair lady, she had secrets and a past of her own.

 

     You see, she hadn't always been Hannah McEwan. She was born on February 7th, 1885 as Hannah Cortes, and into the life of the Larkin mob. Her father was a low level enforcer who clawed his way up to the head of the division. Because of the nature of the job, and how reckless John Larkin had been with the mob's funds, the Cortes' were often barely scraping by, leading to Hannah occasionally dressing in boys clothes and hawking headlines to make ends meet. She darted around Signor Gianni's kitchen as a child, as her father conducted business behind closed doors in the backrooms. It's where she met Andromeda Larkin, though she struggled with the diffcult name and opted to call her "Medda" instead. Even as they grew older and grew apart, the nickname stuck. Eventually, Andromeda was pulled away from leisure to learn the business, when Hannah was ten and Andromeda twelve. Hannah had learned what the business was at that point, having eavesdropped too much and connected the plans to the headlines she hawked the days after.

 

~~~

 

     So Hannah grew into her teenage years resentful of her father and her life. Her gut broiled with guilt as she hollered headlines she could have prevented from being printed. Her father grew fond of the drink after so many years of bloodshed. He began to snap at Hannah and her mother as the stress mounted when the Christmas before Hannah's 16th birthday it was discovered her mother was pregnant. Hannah had cried, belly empty and growling after a barren yuletide dinner. She cried for her mother, who was frail at best without eating for two. She cried for her father, who was becoming more and more distant from them. And she had cried hardest for the child, who would be born into this impoverished hell their life had become.

 

     Her birthday came and went without fanfare. Every scrap of extra food was given to her mother, who was weak and hollow. Things began to look up as spring came, bringing with it sun and weather that wouldn't send people rushing by too fast to buy a pape. Money came better from the people who could spare some change, it being easy to sell the starving orphan ploy. However, this extra bit was not enough to save her mother, who was to fragile after the tough winter to survive the birth. On the fifteenth of May, 1901, Hannah held her mothers hand as she faded away, leaving a squalling babe and sobbing girl behind. She quieted the baby's crying, holding him to her chest and whispering soft promises to him.

 

~~~

 

     For the first two years of Patrick's life, things began to get better for the Cortes family. The loss of her mother had been a crushing blow, and the funeral was meagre, but Hannah picked up a job washing dishes for Signor Gianni and pushed the pain away as best she could. They made do, they got by, and they survived. But life was not done with Hannah. When Patrick turned two, Hannah worked extra hours until she could save for a little cake. They sat around the table, the broken family, and pretended that nothing was missing. They took photographs and laughed. After dinner, Hannah laid Patrick in bed and sang him the song their mother would sing to her.

 

     " _You are my sunshine,_

_My only sunshine._

_You make me happy_

_When skies are grey._

_You'll never know dear,_

_How much I love you._

_Please don't take my sunshine away._ "

 

     As Patrick turned over and sleepily mumbled, "Stay," she brushed the hair back from his face and placed a kiss on his forehead, telling him to go to sleep. He yanwed and his eyelids drooped down, down, until they fell shut. She smiled as he let out a soft snore before blowing out the candle by his bedside and going downstairs to the living room where her father sat. As she descended the staircase, she heard her father close his evening paper. She stepped into the room cautiously, and was met with the distressed face of her father.

 

     "Hannah, I need you to listen to me. Please, without a question until I'm done."

 

     "Father?"

 

     "Hannah darling, the boss wants to marry you to Signor Gianni's eldest," her father said, and Hannah felt her heart stutter to a stop. Marco Gianni was a brutal man, volatile and cruel, with a deep love for the drink. "He fears that Marco may try to run off to someone new, and compromise the gang. His own daughter, Andromeda, is to be married to someone in the Brooklyn mob. He plans to officially betroth you two four days hence. He wouldn't listen to me or Signor Gianni, he wouldn't hear what we had to say at all. So, I need you to go to Miss Deliah McEwan's lodge, on Duane Street, and hide there. You cannot ever have contact with us, they could use it to find you. You will take her last name. Do you understand Hannah?" Hannah blinked away the tears and silently nodded. Her father cradled her cheek in his hand, wiping away tears with his thumb. "I'm so sorry darling. If I could find any other way I would. Now go, pack. You haven't much time."

 

     Hannah hugged her father tightly, ignoring the way his shoulders seemed to shake. As she withdrew, he placed a kiss on her forehead and brushed back her hair. She fled to her bedroom, pulling out the old, cracking leather suitcases from a better time, and carefully packed away her clothing and other belongings. Her lips trembled as she wrapped the photos of her mother and father and the photo of her and Patrick on his first birthday. She spent the next day preparing for the carriage ride, and saying goodbye to her father and Patrick. The young boy wailed and clutched onto her skirts, begging her not to go. She picked him and held him to her chest, whispering that one day she would come back for him. When John Larkin was good and gone, she said, then she would be back. Patrick, tears still streaming down his face, responded, "Promise?"

 

     Hannah blinked back tears of her own. "I promise, little one. I will come back." With one last squeeze and a kiss on Patrick's forehead, Hannah put him down and bid her father goodbye. She stepped into the carriage, directing the driver to Miss Deliah's lodge, Duane Street.

 

~~~

 

     Twenty years later, on May sixteenth, 1923, Hannah was working away under Captain Pulitzer when his daughter asked if she would like to come to dinner with her and a couple companions. Hannah startled, unprepared for such an invitation. Katherine smiled warmly. "Well, Miss McEwan?"

 

     "Of course, Miss Pulitzer. Just give me a moment to freshen up." Hannah stuttered, rushing to the powder room to ensure that not a hair was out of place. After triply checking that she looked impeccable, she quickly left to join Katherine in the foyer, along with their escorts.

 

     "Miss McEwan, may I introduce Misters Darcy Reid and William Hearst. Darcy, Bill, this is Miss Hannah McEwan."

 

     "Truly a pleasure gentlemen," Hannah said, curtsying just so. The two men smiled and bowed in return, Mister Hearst with a smidgen of hesitancy. Hannah kept her composure and tamped down on her fear of recognition. She remembered meeting eyes with him years ago as they handed stacks of the Newsies Banner to the others involved in the strike of 1899. But when they met eyes, he made no indication that he recognized her at all and she internally breathed a sigh of relief. The two men led the women to a waiting car, which took them to an undisclosed restaurant. The four made small talk as the drove, and the ride seemed short to Hannah, who was more acquainted to the slow rock of the trolly. It was when they exited the car that Hannah realized where they were.

 

     Gianni's restaurant, the front for the Larkin mob. It was too late for her to back out now. She just prayed that Gianni or any gang members didn't recognize her, this many years later.

 

     "Signor Gianni!"

 

     "Katherine! Ciao, mi prediletto! Where shall you be seated tonight?" Signor Gianni greeted, still a perfect meld of familiar and professional. Katherine smiled and gestured to Hannah, who had hidden herself at the back of the group in an effort not to be seen. That cover was blown.

 

     "We'd like to take our guest to the lower dining room, if that's alright Signor?" Katherine requested, but was unheard by Signor Gianni, who's warm smile had been dropped for a look of shock. Katherine turned to Hannah and back to Gianni in confusion. "Signor Gianni?"

 

     "Mio Dio, Hannah, mi figlia, is that you?" Gianni asked, only leading to more confusion for Katherine, Mister Ried, and Mister Hearst.

 

     "Sì, Signor Gianni," Hannah replied, and the old man burst into tears, bringing her into a tight hug. Hannah also began to cry, and hugged Gianni back with as much force. He whispered apologies to her between stuttered breaths. "It's okay, Papá Gianni. It's alright. You couldn't have done anything," Hannah said, pulling back from the Italian to explain to Katherine and the two gentlemen. "You three deserve an explanation, but it can wait until we're seated."

 

     "Of course," Katherine replied, and Hannah could see that the poor girl's head was spinning. Hannah gave a watery smile, and let Gianni lead the way to the back staircase. After that, she stepped back to give him one final hug, with an assurance that she was going to stay. Katherine led the way down the twisting tunnels to a heavy door with a sliding window. She rapped three times on the door, before the sliding section was pulled back.

 

     "Miss Katherine," the doorman greeted, his unpatched eye twinkling, "t' what does I owe th' pleasure?" Katherine sighed.

 

     "Open the door Blink, we've got a newbie who maybe isn't as new as she seems."

 

     "Ya know th' rules Miss Kath-"

 

     "Make me sing that song and I will personally remove your other eye," Katherine growled, to which 'Blink' jumped back and chuckled.

 

     "Alrigh', alrigh', the'eh's no needs to be such a gimlet Miss Katherine." Blink withdrew from the window and slid it shut, before opening the door and letting them through. Hannah took a step through the door and breathed in the smoky air of the room, turning to look around at the place. What she had known as the main meeting hall of the gang had become a full speakeasy, with girls serving and boys kissing each other in the various booths littered around the perimeter. But her eyes were torn back to the bar when a shaky and hesitant voice called out, "Hannah?"

 

     The boy looked familiar. Eyes that were just like her own, a strong jaw like her mother and her father's hair. Hannah's voice broke. "Patrick?" The boy came running to her and pulled her into a giant bear hug, burying his face in her hair. She felt the tears hit her scalp as his shirt became damp where her face was pressed into it.

 

     "You're back," Patrick mumbled into her hair, after his sobs had calmed down."Mista' Larkin has been gone fo' yea's, an' you neva' came back, but I's knew ya would. Ya promised." He laughed wetly at the end and Hannah did too.

 

     "I know Patty, I know. I's sorry I took so long. I din' know wha' was happenin' wit' th' gang fo' so many yea's, an' then I got a job with Cap'n Pulitzer at the 1st an' I couldn' risk it. I's so, so sorry Patty. I love you, little brotha'. An' I's missed you so much." Patrick pulled back and smiled at her, the same smile he had when he was just a wee little boy.

 

     "I's loves ya, big sis. I's missed ya so much too."

**Author's Note:**

> Italian Translations!  
>  _Signor Gianni_ \- Mister Gianni  
>  _Ciao, mi prediletto!_ \- Hello, my darling!  
>  _Mio Dio_ \- My God  
>  _Mi figlia_ \- My daughter  
>  _Sì_ \- Yes  
>  _Papá Gianni_ \- Papa Gianni  
> ~  
> Heya!  
> I hope y'all liked it! If you did, drop a comment and kudos below! Didn't like it? Tell me why! My grammar and spelling are atrocious? Let me know (in a kind way)!  
> Hope y'all are having a great day/night/week!  
> Sincerely,  
> ~The_Bi_who_lived (Grace!)


End file.
